Intimate Relations
by kuroren23
Summary: AU. He's mad at the world. She doesn't know much about the world. Can love survive if all it has going for it is the meeting the morning after a night they both can't remember?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Chapter 1**

Authors Note: Standard disclaimer applies. Soul Eater is not mine and yes, wouldn't it be just heavenly if it was. Come to think of it-I probably won't enjoy it as much. As things stand I can play with it as much as I wish. This story will be short and it will eventually add up into a single shot. I'm just working out the kinks from not writing for so long so please tell me what you think. It would help-tons. I'm being serious. Er-trying to be-kuoren23

2011—I know…what the heck was I thinking…what can I say? My muse took the midnight train to nowhere. Editing. What else is there for one to do? Changes in some aspect of this tale…hope you'd like the edgier, angstier characters.

**The Morning After**

_"It is not time for mirth and laughter, the cold, the gray of the morning after"._

**SOUL**

The eternal blackness beneath his lids was beginning to wane. He tried to dismiss the sensation…hoping to gather within him the elusive strength to hold off consciousness at bay, burying his head in the seductive allure of cool silk sheets and the tantalizing fragrance he couldn't name. Somewhere in the darkest recesses of his mind there rose a twang like the quivering cry of a plucked string shattering his already weak hold on slumber's fickle embrace. The faintest slivers of light tickled his blissful oblivion until it tugged and pulled at his awareness forcing heavy lids to open and face the dawning sky that beckoned like an insistent lover that would not be deterred.

_Shit. Morning... I guess that means I'm still alive, damn it._

He stared at the dawning sky and wondered why his abused and clearly battered body even bothered to wake. He lifted a hand to massage the nagging ache on his temple when pains—sharp and intensely acute—stabbed into him like a molten poker. Other parts of his body joined in the pain fest soon after, making itself known the moment he gained consciousness with all the crass disregard and raucousness of an entire tone-deaf brass band. And it was all he could do not to curse aloud the bright ball of light that seemed to mock him with cruel cheer all those distance away.

_Ain't it just my dumb luck the sun's out? Cursed Hades in seven hells, I hate mornings…_

He turned on his back and tried to stretch cramped muscles and aching tendons hoping that this time he won't have to bite back another muffled groan of pain and infuriation. Sheer masochistic tendencies never felt as troublesome as it did the morning after one indulges in what amounted to little more than barbaric male posturing and uninhibited alcohol intake. And if that wasn't the worse thing yet, he couldn't even remember why he bothered to take part in the fiasco in the first place.

_It wasn't like the woman was his. _

And even if she had been, far be it for him to overly care for something that passes through his life like so much sunlight. Lovers, girlfriends and even the one-night stands that flowed and ebbed in the seas of his life learned one thing early on once they engage his short, if intense, attention—he answers to no one and nothing but his own rules. He doesn't abide possessiveness in himself any more than he would abide it in any casual partner. He was cool as ice and just as slippery like his tell-tale shimmering mane.

_When you move they can't catch you…cage you…or tell you that you can't simply BE…_

Women, booze, money—none of it matters. They ceased mattering after he realized that all three things—all that a man like him should be striving for—comes all to easily for someone like him. Nothing could hold his attention for long. The most elusive things always seem to find its way to his side with the barest of exertion of effort.

Money flowed into his coffers with the completion of a single job. Once, his accomplishment brought him pride—a sense of being. Once, he allowed the conquest to define him—to give him a path—a purpose to justify the endless toll of days when he felt like he had to hold on to everything lest it slips away and leave him. Days like those have gone farther and farther in between until even the one thing that he loved and cherished the most became his most loathed sin.

Booze was made readily available especially when people found out that it's the only means they have of making him act with any modicum of civility. He was never the most social of men—preferring the sterile environment of his workplace or the dark, shadowed nooks of his havens. His job thrust him into social events that were made a tad easier by the overflowing presence of spirits. It made him forget who he was no enough to trick people into thinking he was actually quite human—though the illusion never lasted for very long.

And women—women have been flocking to the side of men of power and wealth for varying reasons and with varying results. They came to his side for pretty much the same variation or combination of reasons. Once, the idea of conquering well-known names and taming them to his whim offered a unique opportunity for distraction but it faded quicker than his ennui over his job or the booze he consumed with wariness or abandon. The thrill of the chase has faded long before any of his "dates" noticed or bothered to inquire. Once he learned the ropes—women became nothing more than added condiment to the pleasures and comfort of a night out in the town. And he discarded them as easily as the hotel rooms he walked away from without so much as a backward glance.

He chanced a glance at the sky and cursed his body's innate affinity towards dusk and dawn. His cursed skin seemed so finely attuned to the change that he would inevitably wake—without fail—whenever dawn heralded the coming of a new day and the death of yet another one. He could count in the fingers of one hand the number of times when his body's internal clock failed him. Both occasions occurring long before he hit his puberty and both were directly a result from being too drugged up and in pain to motivate any action on his part.

_Just what I don't need—a body that won't listen to its owner. Why is everything around me so damned annoying?_

With a curse flowing from gritted teeth, he tossed aside the thick bedclothes wrapped around him and padded straight in to the large en suite bathroom to cleanse his skin of the all-too familiar morning-after stench of an extended booze trip. Somewhere in the back of his mind something—a minute detail that spoke of things out of sync with his routine nagged at him—telling him that this morning was a bit different but he couldn't put enough brain power of focus for it for the matter to fully register. Like an annoying gnat that flies around one's head in the dark, he consigned the elusive thing that nagged him into the furthest corner of his mind.

Unmindful of his nakedness and uncaring for anyone unfortunate enough to receive an eyeful should they be brave or careless or foolish enough to enter his private rooms, he only stopped on his flight towards the bath long enough to pick up a thick black and red towel from a cupboard. Reaching out he flipped the switch to turn on the lights, pausing at the threshold to let his eyes adjust to the light coming from the bath. He cast a glance at the floor littered with piece of clothing shed willy-nilly the night before and made a mental note to tell his butler to see that the maids give the room a thorough cleaning before stepping inside, not bothering to close the door.

He stretched, yawned and scratched an itch on his chest, his eyes tracing the familiar if fearfully distinct scar that marked his entire torso with casual disinterest before he turned on the shower and waited for the water's temperature to heat up to the degree he preferred. He absent-mindedly adjusted the temperature, letting the water flow hotter than normally necessary, trying to recall if he still had some business to attend to as he lathered the sandalwood scented soap he favored all over his now drenched skin when a detail suddenly clicked into the early morning muddled mush he calls a brain. His body ceased all movement as his brow furrowed and his distinctive eyes narrowed in concentration, water cascading all over his unmoving body. Like an efficiently rewound reel, his mind supplied him with images of this his brain previously overlooked with razor-sharp clarity.

_Click_

**Black silk shirt. Ripped open…buttons scattered on the carpet.**

_Click._

**Steel toed boots. A pair of thick black socks thrown on opposite ends of the bed**

_Click._

**Dark denim jeans, ripped, dirtied and sporting a spot or two of what looked like blood.**

_Click._

**Plaid skirt.**

_Click._

**Plaid.**

_Click._

**Skirt.**

_Holy shit._

He found himself walking out of his shower midstream and dripping suds and warm water proceeded to his room to make sure that what his mind insisted was just a nasty overflow of insomnia and booze. He stood staring at the small scrap of fabric lying innocuously on the middle of his bedroom floor, his mind still refusing to yield the reason behind its presence. He swooped down and crushed the thin, surprisingly soft material in his hand and wondered why its presence bothered him so. He stood there uncaring for the passage of time or the pool of water slowly forming beneath him, ruining his criminally expensive carpet. He was still staring at what looked like a ridiculously tiny piece of cloth when he heard a soft sneeze, the faintest brush of silk against silk, a tinny swish of fabric as it's caught and slips and finally a startled squeak and a faint thud followed by blessed silence.

He realized belatedly that his body was moving closer to the bed without his express behest, weaving around the pillows that were scattered around the massive mattress, a strange case of curiosity running in his veins. The water clinging to him had been warm but it soon felt like he took a bath in ice water when he saw the unmistakable shape of a firm pair of legs and dainty arched feet, one bony wrist and a riot of honey brown locks cascading down the very naked back of a strange girl sting amidst the rumpled folds of his silken duvet. When the aforementioned head of unruly honey-amber mane turned around, Soul Evans—cynical eccentric, wayward scion of a wealthy family and current bad-ass of the Death City night scene—found himself for the first time in his life struck speechless—pinned in his place wearing nothing but a bemused look on his face and a wrinkled plaid skirt conveniently covering a strategic part of his masculine, all too naked anatomy. His mind—razor sharp at times and observant to a fault found purchase in his confusion by cataloguing the face that stared up at him, noting the pair of wide, shocked emerald eyes above a brilliantly blushing face and pale pink parted lips framed by an expanse of pale, flawless naked skin and a riot of hair the color of honeyed caramel.

_**Damn.**__ I guess I did bring home a prize._

**MAKA**

_It can't be real. This simply isn't possible. She must be dreaming. It has to be a dream. IT HAS TO BE! This can't be real—all this was just a vivid dream—I mean nightmare—yes, that's what it is. It's got to be a nightmare. One brought about by the unaccustomed alcohol her boss forced down her throat in hopes of loosening up. Yes, that's what this was. An alcohol-induced hallucination—the very reason she firmly believed imbibing any form or amount of alcohol is the quickest way to fry ones brain into oblivion. Here was her proof-positive that she has been right all along._

_She was in a nightmare. Not a dream—no, she was in a solid 100-proof alcohol soaked nightmare of horrific proportions. Her brain cells has officially committed mass suicide on her and left tangible evidence of their petty vengeance._

_**There's a man standing naked in front of me.**_

_Her panicked brained screeched, making her aware that on some level her mind has retained its normal faculties and functions—even if it was just to remind her of a fact she heartily wanted to forget. Like the fact that for some reason her eyes kept on straying on the streak of bubbles slowly cascading and __**melting**__ down his considerable physique. Just where the heck did she come up with this dream guy anyways?_

_**Why is he still staring at me? Don't dreams fade when one wakes up? **_

_Why can't she be just like every other junkie that woke up the next day with a queasy stomach, a pounding headache and oblivion? Why is my imagination dripping water all over the carpet and looking quite real? And why is he still damned NAKED! Why can't I dream about someone fully clothed for Soteria's sake!_

Next Chapter:

The Girl From the Night Before


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Authors Note: Standard disclaimer applies. SE is still not mine. Many thanks for the following who reviewed.4everhere, SoulforAnime, Woodrokiro, Waterblossemangel13 and the sassy girl that kept comparing it to Mommy. Many thanks for your interest and praise. I only hope I could deliver. And as I said, this will be a short piece. I promise. I hope.

2011 Update: Well don't know if this one would still be short but I am praying at least once that it would be damned finished.

**The Girl From the Night Before**

_**"When choosing between two evils, I always like to try the one I've never tried before."**_

_**- **__Mae West_

_PRESENT_

It was the sound of running water that roused Maka Albarn from the first deep slumber she has enjoyed in weeks. Her body finally did what it has been threatening to do all week—commit mutiny on her. Her muscles felt like mush and there was little she could do to motivate her lids to lift even a fraction of a moment longer than necessary. Her body—long overtaxed and exhausted from the harrowing deadlines she had been forced to meet simply decided enough was enough and dumped her on the first horizontal space available, unconscious and clearly uncaring whatever happens next.

So here she was, still clinging to the last vestiges of sleep like a recovering alcoholic clings to the last buzz of alcohol in their system. She was—as expected—quite reluctant to emerge beneath the healing embrace of her much-longed for sleep but her serenity has been disturbed and now a nagging sense of wrongness was now battering her worn out body and mind into waking.

_Gods…what now? I was so close…I don't want consciousness yet…no…I want sleep…I want oblivion…_

The cool kiss of silk soothed her fevered skin and she luxuriated in the downy softness beneath her cheek. A soothing scent—a heretofore unknown smell tickled her nose and she inhaled deeply, feeling something wound tight and tensed inside her loosen as if in relief. She stretched out her limbs, eyes still closed, delighting in the enveloping warmth when in an unconscious move on her part, she shifted her hips, sneezed and suddenly the silken cocoon she was occupying began to slide. The silk slithered with a hissing swish and she found herself spilled ingloriously into the thick rug with a muffled "oomph".

Incensed with what amounted to little more than a literal rude awakening, she struggled to free herself from the thick sheets enveloping her and huffed once she gained her freedom from her silken confines. Using her palms, she pushed herself to a seated position and tried to peer around her through the veil of her disheveled hair. The first thing to greet her eyes was a pair of wet feet. A very pale, decidedly masculine-looking feet.

_Huh…wonder if working long of manual labor would give any girl such butch-looking feet…?_

She continued to stare at the pair, her mind still fuzzy from sleep and she contemplated them with something akin to clinical detachment. Said feet was dripping water into what looked to her like genuine Aubusson carpet. A stray thought popped in her mind at the image and she resisted the urge to tell the owner of those bare feet that he shouldn't be messing up such pretty carpet, especially if it was the general article.

_That would've be a criminally, terminally idiotic thing to do._

Titling her head to the side, her gaze slid up, trying to piece together the images in her mind. The idea that she was still dreaming was still at the back of her mind but she was certain she didn't possess the kind of imagine that would justify her current state. She rubbed a hand across her eyes and tried once more pushing back the heavy fall of her hair away from her face. It was a miscalculation on her part. Her now obstruction-free, unimpaired vision offered her a sight that made her open her lips and just stare. It took a while before her brain managed to interpret the image before her

_There was a naked man standing in front of her. A naked man holding her skirt. A naked man holding her skirt standing before her._

_Thirteen Hours Ago… _

She just knew she made a mistake by agreeing with her boss to use a famous nightclub for conducting what should been a legitimate business meeting. She insisted that the contract to secure a deal with a major corporation was not something you bring into a noisy bar. But typical of the people in her company, they overruled her logical arguments and polite requests and simply declared point-blank that they would offer her no support nor continue with her contract if her "prim and proper little ass" didn't make an appearance at Death City's most famous nightspot and reminded her that in their business the customer 'no-matter-if-they're-being-asses' will always be right.

Right…Sadistic, pedantic, senile hermits. I should tell them to shake their sagging butts in a nightclub while drunken idiots try to grab anything female that moves and see if they'd like it.

She took another wary glance at the former warehouse that currently calls itself the trendiest spot in all of Death City and gave in to the urge to grimace. **Black Star.** _Ugh. Can this night get any worse_? _She should've known nothing good could come from hanging around a place named after something so clearly born out of chaos. They should've named the place Black Hole because from the look of things that's where her career would go if everything goes up in smoke tonight._

Her fatalistic thoughts proved all too true. The moment she arrived things got out of hand. First, she was accosted and nearly provoked into a near-fatal verbal collision course with the black-clad, blue-haired Neanderthal masquerading as guard-slash-barman-slash-bouncer who announced that his "establishment" didn't cater to her kind.

The comment made her pause even as chagrin splashed her cheeks with a tell-tale shade of red. She took careful stock of her chosen attire for the night. _Black ruffled silk blouse, a red and black plaid skirt, stockings and sensible heels, a knee-length black cashmere coat_. None of the things she wore was terribly eye-catching or in any way garish—in fact it was subtle and classy as was her wont. It was certainly not '_priggish_' in any context considering she wanted to simply wear her usual business suit. When she made inquiries regarding what he meant as her kind, the cretin actually had the gall to smile up to her say,

"We don't do bookworms conventions for failed librarians, Sister. And I especially don't think I have anything on the menu tonight for a little girl lost on a damned fieldtrip. Why don't you try the hotel a few blocks down? Unless you're here for a dare—that's even more of a reason not to let you in."

She could tell the exact moment her carefully hidden and monitored temper rose to its flashpoint. She gave the wild-haired man a smirk before she whipped out the thick tome on business ethics from somewhere and promptly crashed its thick leather-bound spine unto the barman's chauvinistic head. A quick crouch and a flick to extend her leg with practiced ease; she swept the man's leg from beneath him dumping him bodily into the cobblestoned street. While his eyes still swirled in pain, she placed the pointed heel of her boots against his chest and carefully applied pressure on her heel letting the spiked edge to make itself felt as it dipped in to the surprisingly yielding flesh beneath his sleeves black leather vest. She locked her gaze with eyes the now watcher her with pleasing calculation and wariness.

"I'm sorry. I think it was a bit too loud just a moment ago. I wasn't able to get what you were blabbing about. You were saying?"

"Lady, you got some guts pulling something like this on me!" he growled menacingly. She gave him a small smile before putting digging in her heel a bit more.

"You started it, Mister. Last I heard this was a bar that means as long as I can pay my tab and not cause bodily harm on employees and patrons, you have nothing to charge me on. If you work here and wish to continue doing so, I suggest you develop some people skills. Otherwise, get another job other than harassing customers. If that fails, get a hobby!"

The man didn't even blink during her tirade. He merely gave her a smirk and replied, deadpan.

"Lady, this _is_ a hobby."

This time it was she who had to blink. "Then be thankful it pays you for being an uncouth throwback."

"You got some kind of mouth on you lady."

"I don't need for you to tell me that. Now, can I go in now? I'm running a bit late and my boss is a bigger psycho than you. I seriously need to get inside now."

She straightened her stance and offered the man a hand. He waved off her offer and stayed where he was. She brushed her skirt and discreetly ran her damp palms along her side. She nodded towards the man before picking up her handbag that suffered the indignity of falling on the ground when she 'Maka-chopped' the doorman. He merely gave her a salute and a mocking laugh.

"Don't let the door hit your nonexistent butt Lady."

"Thank you, kind sir. Make sure you don't drop what little brain matter you have on the ground where you're most likely to step on it. You wouldn't have any left if that happened."

With that last retort, she stepped over his prone form and proceeded inside the dimly lit boasted to be the best and hottest spot in downtown nightlife. She surveyed the room with a sinking feeling in her stomach. As expected the room was packed with hundreds of expensively—and some oddly—attired gyrating bodies lost in the deafening din of what passes for music for the night-loving denizens of the city.

She closed her eyes and tried to find some modicum of excitement for the coming meeting but even she couldn't be that dense. This wasn't a business meeting—this was the one side of business she really had hoped she would be spared from ever witnessing or participating. A damned pleasure meeting thinly disguised under the auspices of business.

_**My boss is a scheming compulsive jerk that should be beaten within an inch of his demented life.**_

"I should probably tell you what I think you think of me right now. I'm willing to bet the word 'jerk' is in there somewhere."

"I should have you packed in a crate and sent to a hoarder's domicile. That or someplace where nothing is ever symmetrical."

Her boss snorted delicately before muttering as he handed her a glass of red wine.

"No such abomination exists."

She took a bracing sip of the ruby liquid, her parched throat thankful for the cold smooth slide down its dry length. "If there is one even remotely close to it, you can swear that I will book you a flight to there the very next morning."

"Vindictive little bookworm!"

She slapped him on the arm and leveled him with a piercing look from her neon-lit emerald eyes. "Self-indulgent, symmetry obsessed OCD!" She sighed and tried once more to gather her clearly battered sense of equilibrium. "Really Kid, what were you thinking? This is a big deal for me."

Kid lead the way to a cordoned off section of the bar where the private rooms were located. Sliding open a door painted with cranes and a blood red moon, he ushered her into its surprisingly plush interior. "You should learn to trust your elders more, little bookworm."

"Don't go with that _'I'm older than you-holier-than-thou'_ speech Boss. You're my elder by a quarter of a year and you manage incessantly to annoy me by behaving a full three-quarter of a year before your actual age." She sank gratefully into one of the crimson velvet covered sofas and sighed with relief. She made a refill motion with her empty glass and smiled when Kid reached out for the wine bottle.

"You are an unappreciative little kouhai. Do you not understand why I brought you here?"

Taking a careful sip, she looked up and her boss and gave an innocent smile. "To deafen me, thereby damaging my hearing beyond repair and impairing my ability to never contract vertigo?"

This time it was Kid who slapped her arm playfully and wagged an admonishing finger in front of her laughing visage. Cocking an eyebrow he murmured imperiously, "Wench, you need to learn when to use charm and your brains for something more than trading insults with me. I am telling you that tonight is one such night. I brought you here for your 'oh-so-precious' project."

She blinked. "You brought me to a bar to get my once-in-a lifetime deal signed?"

"Yes."

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance and stabbed a finger at her friend's immaculately attired chest. "Did I just skipped out on that lesson or was that not part of my curriculum when I was studying for a combined undergraduate degree and MBA? Is that some kind of weird male-only elective?"

"It's called strategic planning my book-wielding dominatrix. The man you seek couldn't be secured through normal means. I know because I've heard you complain every time your appointment and ambush failed to get results. Through careful investigations—"

Maka snorted in derision, "Which means you bribed, threatened or scarred someone to Death—"

Kid reached out and pinched her cheek for her sass. While she was rubbing the injured spot, he gestured towards the mass of human bodies seen through the glass walls that looked down into the bar's dance floor. "As I was saying through my network I gleaned the crucial but all too secretive fact that the man in charge of the account you are lusting after happens to regularly visit this particular nighttime watering hole."

"So we're confronting the lion in his den? That's your brilliant strategy?"

Kid cocked an inquiring eyebrow at the doubt so evident in her voice. "Oh? And were you expecting something rather fantastical like preparing to fill-up his appointment books with cancelled meetings?"

The rebuke was made all the more damning by the uncontrollable blush that washed over her pale cheeks. It was proof of their deep friendship that they could banter and parry words that would otherwise normally offend each other's sensibilities had it come from anyone else. However if said words came from the lips of one's childhood friend—one that stood by when no one else did or could—then it takes on a slightly different meaning despite the acerbic tone it was delivered in.

"Thank you…I know you don't like dealing with the public coming so close…"

"I have done worse believe me. Otou-sama has seen to it that I mingle with every crowd imaginable. Trust me when I say this is very typical for what passes for night life entertainment."

"Spare me then. I prefer the quite solitude of my library to this—racket—whatever is that infernal noise?"

"I believe that's what we call modern music little bibliophile."

"Ugh. I think that's the reason I prefer antiques."

Little that I know that the night was about to go downhill from there. It took on a nightmarish quality lightning fast that it would haunt her for days to come.

_Present time…_

"Seen enough? Or should I model some more for you? Just to make sure we've covered all the high points considering everything about me's pretty laid much out for you."

The voice was deep, velvet-like it its smoky undertones and just raspy enough to make her shiver. But all of that failed to take her attention away from the sight before her eyes.

"W-who-! W-h-at-! W-w-why are you—am I—is-!"

A husky laugh came and Maka had to bite her lip to prevent the groan that wanted to escape her mouth as she experienced a full-blown, full-body shiver just from the sound he made.

"Are you always this eloquent in the morning or is it just me ?"

He didn't get a chance to hear her reply. With a shriek, she moved with surprising agility and speed. She wrapped a sheet around her body, gathered her other garments off the floor and with a final frustrated look at the skirt still held in his hands, bolted right out of his bed room. Soul blinked. His eyes looked down at the soft fabric in his hand before a grin worked its way to his lips. With a mischievous smirk, he turned back into his bathroom. Without bothering once more to close the shower stall door he finished his shower leisurely, his eyes never straying from the red and black plaid he placed on top of his rumpled bed.

_He had a feeling that today would be a good day._

_Preview:_

_She was locked in a damned labyrinth. Who lives in such a monolith? She was lost inside a pervert's mansion and there was no way out. There was no way she could waltz out the door without her bag, without any money and without her damned SKIRT!_


	3. Chapter 3

Authors Note: Again the standard disclaimers of my non-ownership is clearly advertised. Thanks for those that review and I hope you'll continue to enjoy this tale. Please leave comments about what you think of the tale--it helps during those sleepless nights.--kuroren23

* * *

_**"Anything that can damn well go wrong--chances are, when Fates being a nasty little bugger--it will go wrong".**_

_-personal adaptation of Murphy's Law_

**MAKA**

She was stuck in a labyrinth thinly disguised as a house. Carpeted halls led to high-vaulted rooms with elaborate plaster ceilings and heavy damask drapes. Everywhere, there were hundreds of windows and a multitude of doors but none it would seem—led to the way outside. After endless minutes of fruitless search, she bravely chose one of the random doors that came her way. Heart pounding like a runaway locomotive, she reached out to turn the ornate door knob, her fingers curling up against the icy bite of brass against her even colder skin.

Cabinets. Miles and miles of closet space. A dressing table and a huge mirror flanked on either side by custom-made racks for what she estimates were nearly a hundred pair of shoes. Fabrics…shirts, it would seem, each arranged according to shade and fabric. Suits, dinner jackets, leather, ties, cashmere…more clothes than she ever saw outside a men's department store. It was, by far, the weirdest room she has been in this madhouse. First there was that enormous room that's better suited being called a personal auditorium. There was also that dark jazz bar reproduction. The lack of servants milling around the huge antebellum home made her uneasy and now, with her discovery of this cavernous dressing room her heart sank when she realized—finally--what kind of man held her prisoner.

_**I've been kidnapped by a narcissistic shopaholic with no morals.**_

_**

* * *

**_

**SOUL**

He wondered at the odd feeling of excitement coursing through his veins since his discovery of his clearly unwilling, though not unwelcomed, guest. He speculated at the cause for his interest and decided that no matter what, at least for a few more hours, he has found a way to keep his ennui at bay. The whys, hows and wherefore mattered little at the moment. His primary concern is ascertaining that his "houseguest" didn't suffer from neglect for far too long. There was simply no way to tell what kind of damage a little lost rabbit could do in a person's unsuspecting home.

Grabbing one of his large bath towels, he gave his dripping body a perfunctory swipe before walking up towards one of the twin night tables flanking his bed. He picked up a remote and pointed it absently towards the wall cleverly disguising the entry way towards his dressing room. He kept an ear on the whirring sound of gears shifting as he tried to dry up most of the moisture from his skin. He turned around and for the second time that day met shocked emerald eyes.

"Well, well. Look at what we have here?"

* * *

**MAKA**

The sound of machinery around her made her twitch in alarm. Glancing around her, she tried to pinpoint the exact location of where the sound was coming from when her eyes caught the image of one of the huge blanks walls near one of the massive cabinets shift and slide out as if it was simply a stylized shoji screen. She stood, shocked at the turn of events when her eyes once more fell on the unmistakable image of damp male, a shock of snow white hair and piercing blood red eyes that now fairly screamed wicked amusement at her.

This simply would not do. _Oh no, she did NOT just spent half an hour wondering around a labyrinthine mansion only to end up standing five feet away from the very monster she was trying to escape. That's it—she's had it with Fate's warped sense of humor. She was taking back control of her damned life before she finds herself in an even bigger nightmare._

Forcing her trembling limbs to work, she turned around and sought the door that led her into the room. Presence of mind finally asserted itself and she found herself extending a hand to grab a pair of gray sweat pants, some kind of boots, a tie and a black trench coat on her way out, making sure to lock the door behind her as she went. Leaning against the doorjamb, she pulled on the sweatpants, trying in vain the fiery blush painting her cheeks at the glaringly obvious bare length of her thighs and legs resulting from her missing skirt. Cursing and muttering at her small frame she tugged hopelessly at the baggy garment as the hem dragged and pooled around her bare feet. Leaning down, she made quick work of the trailing hem before she slid her feet into what she only discovered were a pair of surprisingly soft leather boots. She bundled her bag and inside the hastily folded cashmere jacket and secured the impromptu package with the tie she snagged at the last minute. Shoving her arms through the voluminous trench, she kicked aside the fallen bed sheet and shuddered at the image of it wrapped around her skirt-less frame.

She stalked the length of the halls, eyes alert for any sign of a passage that would lead her outside when her eyes picked up the faintest shimmer of sunlight. Following her instinct, she found herself on a landing that led to what she could only assume was THE Garage. The space certainly deserved some kind of emphasis as what it housed seemed like a car-maniac's fondest dream come true. From her position she took stock of the cars lined like jewels on display.

Farthest from her was the distinctive fiery red of a Ferrari Enzo, lounging like a lazy feral cat about to pounce. Next to it was a silver-gray Porsche Carrera GT—its icy cool exterior emphasized by the deep, black leather interior. The space between each car was lined with grooming products and the gleam of steel illuminated the next pair—a deep yellow Lamborghini Murcielago and a steel-gray Aston Martin Vanquish. The cars alone justified the grandeur of the mansion but Maka found her eyes landing on a curious pair of vehicles flanking the entrance to the garage and her only viable means of escape. Though perhaps simply labeling them as vehicles was a grave injustice. On her left idled a car that seemed to be strangely in motion event when it was at a complete stand still. A gleaming black Koenigsegg Competition Coupe X. Her hands tingled with the heretofore unknown urge to run her hands along the sinuous lines of the car. Forcing her eyes to move, her gaze landed on the other vehicle standing near the garage door. It was a custom-built bike with gleaming chrome parts and a curiously red-orange body work and a custom built seat that seemed designed for a comfortable ride for two.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to glide along the side of the building, careful not to even touch with the edge of her borrowed clothes the machines displayed before her, her nose crinkling at the scent that permeated her clothing—even here where the smell of gasoline and clean engine reigns, she could tell apart the distinctive sandalwood and winter perfume that enveloped her. With a careful assessment of her bearings, she reached out and flipped the switch that activated the garage doors open.

That's when a voice spoke from the depths of darkness behind her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. It's been programmed to deliver a low electrical shock if you punch in the wrong code."

* * *

**SOUL**

He had to hand it to the girl. She was no frail, delicate flower that collapsed in her time of need. Sure it surprised him when she suddenly turned and high tailed out his dressing room, maintaining enough presence of mind to lock the door behind her. He stayed beside the door, listening to her frantic scrambling outside, his eyes drawn to the ransacked cupboards, automatically cataloguing the pieces that have been taken. A pair of sweats, the trench coat that he normally wears during moderate weather and a pair of boots that were scheduled to be return to his shoemaker because they were two inches too small. Curiously enough, all the items could be dismissed for their practical nature except for the absence of a crimson silk tie.

_**Whatever in the world will she use the tie for? **_

The image of crimson silk threaded through the cool honey blond locks made him smile. He could clearly recall the feel of the sleek stands flowing through his fingers, could even tell that at one point he brought a curl near and rubbed it against his lips. He closed his eyes and immediately his memory was flooded by the whiff of honeysuckle and wildflowers in her hair, underlined by the delicate tones of summer wind and an odd note he could only say called to mind the scent of paper. The unusual combination made him smile until he realized that other than the perfume of her hair and the feel of cool locks he could not call to mind any other detail about the woman he spent the night with.

Chagrined, he stalked out of his room and into the main hall, eyes trained on the connecting corridors that led to other parts of his home. He was suddenly seized by the need to be near his flighty little houseguest. He stood beneath the soft illumination of a huge Austrian crystal chandelier, weighing his next move when a familiar voice broke his concentration.

"Must I remind the young Master to learn to dry up before appearing in front of company? I could swear you left a trail of dampness a mop could follow."

The disapproving tone of his butler's voice failed to dim the quite hum of thrill running through him . He eagerly pounced on the unsuspecting servant with wicked glee. "Imp! There you are!"

The man called Imp simply raised an eyebrow at the exuberant display, before deliberately stepping away from his young charge, brushing fastidiously at some imagined lint on his immaculate double-breasted black suit and straightening his white cuffs.

"Indeed I am sir. Have you need of me?"

Soul nodded and waved towards the general direction of the kitchen, picking up the day's newspaper as he scanned the headlines. "I want something to eat. Would you mind preparing a light repast in the sunroom? Bacon and eggs, omelet, toast, the whole shebang…juice maybe?"

Up went the decidedly distinctive arched eyebrow once more. "Are you that ravenous Sir?"

He turned to the small statured man and shook his head absently, his eyes returning almost immediately to his perusal of the morning's events. "What? No, it's not just for me. I have a guest. Inform me at once if you happen to cross path with a honey blond woman wearing a sheet."

"A sheet?" Imp deadpanned. Both master and butler stared at one another for a time. A beat passed and Soul managed to reply, as if half unsure of any need for it.

"Yes, Imp, a sheet."

The butler sighed before plucking out the rumpled newspaper from his master's clutching hands. Smoothing down the pages and refolding it properly, he pinned his young charge with a gimlet look from his wizened eyes."Young Master's guest certainly varies. Does the young Lady in question design clothing apparel or was there an unfortunate accident that compelled her to filch said bedding?"

Soul sighed and tried mightily to reign in the irritation that suddenly seized him at his old servants apparent censure.

"Imp, I didn't ask for your opinion, only your input on the matter. Now shut your trap and tell me if you've seen her."

Imp simply inclined his head and asked deferentially, "Master, if I shut my trap as you pointed out so indelicately, how can I state anything that you might prove useful?"

It was all that Soul could do not to scream. He collapsed into a nearby Queen Anne wingback chair and glared balefully at his willful butler.

"Argh! Why do I keep you with me?"

"Your father told you so. I believe it was either that or you stay with them in the family manor. If I recall correctly you said I was—and I quote "the far lesser of two evils."

"I must've been drunk that day."came the surly reply. The butler merely extended a hand towards the nearby side table and poured a cup of fragrant, well-brewed coffee into a delicate bone china cup. He brought the warm beverage near and handed it to his frowning master.

"You were fourteen at the time Young Master. Certainly even I would not have allowed in you such behavior."

Soul took a sip of the bracing liquid and snorted indelicately. "Just tell me someone has seen her around the house. She's been roaming all around here since she woke. It's inconceivable that no one has seen her or detained her. Where is everyone?"

Imp merely looked at the young man before him. When Soul's face simply continued displaying curiosity over the matter, Imp sighed before succumbing with the explanation, albeit in his customary chiding tones. "Everyone is busy preparing for lunch and all the other mundane tasks necessary in maintaining a well-run, extremely well-kept home Young Master. As these are your private apartments, no one dares to come here unannounced or unless you have finally decided to stir from your bed and grace us with your presence."

Soul pinned his servant with a quelling look. "Tell me something, Imp. Why is it that at your most cordial you sound all the more annoying and patronizing?"

At the subtle rebuke Imp merely gave a grin. "I have no idea what you mean by that Sir. As for your question, indeed someone has seen the young miss."

Interest shone in his eyes once more, though he was unaware of just how much his reaction was displayed so prominently on his normally stoic face."Who? Where is she?"

"I believe it was I who saw her first Young master. As for the young lady's current location, I trust that she is somewhere in the midst of her commute back to the city."

Soul nearly spit out the coffee onto the priceless Persian carpet beneath his feet. "What?!!! Are you telling me she's gone?" he growled. Imp merely blinked before nodding his affirmation.

"I do believe the proper word would be she made a rather deliberate and well-timed exit sir."

"Imp!" he screeched in frustrated fury. "What happened?"

"I found her in the garage and she asked me how to get out. I figured since she seemed so distressed and she certainly looked harmless I had nothing to fear. I lead her out, called a cab for her and sent her on her merry way. If I must say so, Young Master, you should be more accommodating of your guests. It would not do to frighten them away so badly that they run around looking so forlorn."

"Imp. Are you telling me you let her leave without telling anyone?"

"Yes, Sir. She asked that I release her from the confines of the garage, I supplied her with the necessary means and she thanked me politely. Which is more than I can say about you, Young Master."

Soul wanted to strangle the man in front of her but he fought down the urge with the barest of margin. "Did you bother asking for her name?"

Imp snorted at that. "I assumed you had seen to it seeing as you brought the young miss home."

"If I had done that, do you think I would be standing here talking to you still?"

"I wouldn't presume to know what you'll do Sir. Sometimes, your actions baffle even the keenest of minds."

"Imp, you're fired!" he growled, slamming the cup he held down on the antique rosewood coffee table. "This is the last straw! You are so fired you imp!"

"Thank you Sir. That makes it the ten thousand seven hundred and forty-sixth time you've said that to me since we met. Should I consider that official or matter of fact."

"What do you think?"

"Young Master, with you I've learned that one needs to learn when not to say anything when one does entertain the notion of thinking."

"Is that so? I never realized you had such a high opinion of yourself." He sneered in frustration, prowling around the room, wishing to calm the gnawing frustration burning inside him.

Imp picked up the cup and gave the table a decisive swipe to clean up any of the spilled liquid. "Actually Sir, you should actually be thanking me. I think I just prevented the young Miss from stealing your prized Harley."

"Is that so?"

"Indeed Sir. That is so."

Soul's agitated prowling stopped abruptly. He stared at his servant as if to ascertain its validity. When Imp merely continued staring back at him, he gave out a curt nod.

"Thanks."

"You're very welcome Young Master. Will you still be needing breakfast?"

"I hate you."

"The feeling Sir, I believe, is entirely mutual. Shall I get the car instead?"

Soul gave a defeated groan before muttering, one hand covering his eyes as if to prevent another surprise from suddenly springing up on him. "Yes."

"Very good sir."


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note: 11/19/10-Edited a few parts. Enjoy.**

**

* * *

**

**_I am so clever that sometimes _**

**_I don't understand a single word of what I am saying. _**

**_-Oscar Wilde_**

**_

* * *

HIDE AND SEEK_**

**SOUL**

_**The hunt was over.**_ Two thousand seven hundred miles and exactly six months of exhaustive search that covered nearly every compass point in the known world, he was finally closing in on his quarry. Finally, after all this time, he would have what he has been longing—_yearning for_—hungering and growing even more hungry with each passing day.

For the first time since he woke up that notable night all those months ago, he allowed himself to breathe a little easier, relaxing the tension that rode his body since he discovered his prey missing—vanished from the confines of his home. He permitted himself to hope that he would soon find the answer to the questions that has been plaguing his mind and body, coloring his everyday existence until finally he simply had to give in and look for her.

The coil of anticipation trembling inside him took some getting used to but now it has become familiar—almost expected. The long months of waiting for confirmation of his search proved a worthy practice for his own sense of patience. Now that the prize was virtually in sight, he could find it in himself to savor the bubbly enticement of success.

_Now, if only he could do it in relative peace._

"Gods in thirteen hells, what in the name of all the forsaken heroes did you do to this woman yours have to make her want to dig a hole in the middle of nowhere to hide in? No one in their right mind would find her here! No wonder it took forever! Even I wouldn't be so desperate as to look for anyone or anything here!"

_The loud, strident voice forced my introspection to a grounding halt, reminding me that I was, unfortunately or fortunately, not alone. I turned to glare at the singularly thunderous mass of barely-human creature occupying the space near me and tried—in vain—to immolate him where he stood._

"If you're trying to glare at me to death, I should probably tell you that you as much a chance at that as someone like Kid allowing himself to wear mismatched socks."

_I tried to find something scathing to say but nothing really vivid came to mind. When __**that**__ tactic failed, I settled for a bored look and a raised eyebrow at the other unfortunate member of our triad, who thankfully, has remained silent during my inner musing. Now that silent companion exchanged an exasperated look with me, shrugged and proceeded to rip a new one on the hide of our clueless, loud partner-in-crime with his customary drawling remark that would've scalded an iceberg._

"We wouldn't have to scour those entire thirteen hells if you and your so-called contacts and power-that-be worked Black Star. Since your powers of perception and exploration is more worthless than sand in the desert, even I'm wondering why we even brought you here. So if I were you, I wouldn't be opening my mouth for anything any time soon."

"You know what your problem is Kid?"

"You mean other than the fact that I was dragged here very much against my will to follow you two idiots in your fruitless search for someone you managed inexplicably to lose due to aforementioned idiocy?"

"Huh? Never mind that. I mean your other problem."

"I'm sure you would be compelled to tell me. By all means, enlighten me."

"Damn right I will. Your problem can be summed up in one damn statement and that is _you talk too much for too damn long and often with too damn many fancy words for a person like me to give a damn_."

Kid allowed himself a moment to process the words that's just been uttered in the last few minutes. From the faintly shocked gasp that escaped his lips to the unholy gleam of amusement burning within his golden eyes, I surmised that Black Star managed to surprise the normally stoic young man. A feat that I thought would often take a natural disaster to manage.

"Somewhere in that statement part of me wants to extend a recommendation for being able to utter the word "_damn_" in succession without buckling or tripping over your own demented tongue. But for the life of me, I seem to be battling this insane urge to pull out your damned tongue just to see if it's as demented as its owner."

Black Star merely shrugged before pointing an accusing hand. "See? That's my point exactly! There you go again speaking in such priggish manner, talking fancy as if were in some kind of embassy shindig."

I had to bite my lips to keep the snicker gnawing at me. Despite the hard search, somehow, here near where my quarry resides, I found my heretofore lost sense of humor. "Not that you would ever be invited one. Seriously Black Star, where in the five hells did you learn to talk like that? We attended the same school, practically grew up together and you still talk like something that crawled out of a damned cave."

A disbelieving snort was all that he gave me. "Now, Soul, there you go being snobbish and all hoity-toity with me again. I can talk fancy just well and fine when I need it but it's too damn troublesome and it's not like there's anyone here to impress, so why in the five hells should I even bother?"

"Tact?" Kid intoned simply, his eyes conveying abject curiosity.

"I ain't tacking in anything." came Black Star's blight reply.

"Common courtesy?" I suggested helpfully.

He shook his head and answered with a sweeping, expansive gesture of his arm. "I'd rather stick to common sense. And why the hell do they call it that anyways? Why not just sense? Why stick common with it?"

I tried once more. "Decency's sake?"

"Hey are you saying I'm indecent? I haven't hit anyone that doesn't deserve it and I wear clothes when I have to."

"Pretending at least that you're human if nothing else?" Kid quipped.

"Hey! I resent that!"

I took a look at my companions and knew that if I don't intervene it won't be ending anytime soon. My chosen companions were exact opposite on more than verbal skills or sartorial preferences but they were good to have along. Now, however, there were more pressing matters to be addressed and I don't need for them to delay me any moment longer than necessary. With a weary sigh, I stepped between the two glaring males with both hands raised and began the lengthy process of returning two glaring toddlers into the young men they ought to be.

"Guys, come on, knock it off. We need to canvass the place and see how we can make the best of the remaining daylight to gather information. I already sent Imp to investigate where we can observe my wayward little bunny."

Kid gave a delicate sniff. "Personally, I need food and shower. Black Star, I trust you need the former most but I seriously suggest that you take the latter first."

"Huh?"

"Bath and then eat. Come on, my cavernous pig of a friend. I'll treat you to steak if you do it when we get to the hotel. Deal?"

Black Star gave Kid a brilliant grin that threatened to outshine the very sun. He clapped a large hand on Kid's back, making him take a single step forward to stop from sprawling ignominiously on the ground. "That's the best thing you've said all day, Kid. Come on, what are you guys waiting for? Soul, stop gawking at the damn sun! It isn't going anywhere! Move your ass, there's steak to be had and I ain't sharing!"

"Tell me again why we brought him?" Kid groaned at me beseechingly.

"Think of it this way, if we leave him behind he would be making a mess in your business establishment and bugging the hell out of everyone we know, ensuring that we would have no reputation to speak of when we return. This way, we can do damage control if it occurs."

Kid gave me a look. "Not if, when. He isn't an unknown factor—he's an inevitability."

"There is that." I nodded at him in agreement. With another look at the surrounding terrain, we climbed back into the car and drove straight into the waiting city.

* * *

**MAKA**

The warm, breezy night brought back into the shop the barest hint of honeysuckle and roses. Taking a deep breath, Maka allowed herself to dream of summers long past. Closing her eyes to better savor the scents that so reminded her of home, she failed to hear the faint tinkling of the bell placed over her door. As it were, her latest patron saw her leaning against one of the massive shelves that lined the walls of her small, old world shop, eyes closed and clutching a rather peculiar book in what looked like a dreamy embrace.

"That must be some kind of book if it could make a girl like you to smile like that. Want to tell me what it's all about, Sugar?"

"Liz!" the startled squeak that came from her throat made her jump and drop the said book. With a weary smile and a tell-tale blush washing over her cheeks, she straightened with a chagrined grin and addressed the smirking woman standing in front of her. "Gods, you startled me there! I didn't hear you come in."

"Well now, you've made me doubly curious. Any book that could make the unflappable boss of Elegant Traces forget her composure and unable to hear people is worth my time." Liz reached down and plucked the book off the floor with her customary agility that Maka could only admire. A beat passed and the smile that hovered on Liz's lips became a full-fledged smirk.

"Oh my, my. I never thought you'd go for this kind of thing Madam Bookworm. I must admit I am surprised and that is not something anyone can easily do. Doing some quality scanning for your bed time reading?"

"B-bed time reading? What are you—oh my god! Was that what I was holding?" she nearly stumbled in her haste to straighten the glasses that slipped to a precarious angle on her nose. She ran her hands down the comforting grain of her tweed skirt and tried to speak once more but Liz beat her to the punch.

"Was it that good? Amnesia-inducing stuff? Damn, maybe I should get me one of those."

Maka pinned the tall, blonde-haired blue eyed young woman standing before her with a look from behind her tortoise-shell glasses. Her guest simply cocked an elegantly arched brow before leaning back against one of her counters waiting for her to speak. The slick, fitted black leather pants hugged mile-long legs crossed at the ankles, displaying playfully clunky boots that offset the stark white pirate-style shirt the young woman was wearing as she flashed another grin her way.

"Don't be ridiculous! It's an excellent antique." She heaved an envious sigh at the woman's look. "You look incredible as always Liz." She gave a chagrinned look at her own clothes and resisted a sigh. The plain black long-sleeved, cashmere turtleneck and the red and black plaid twill skirt pleased her but somehow the outfit seemed intended for someone else. "I always look like some lost college undergrad no matter what I wear."

"Thank you honey—but don't you go on changing the subject now. I'm sure the fundamentals haven't changed much but I sure wouldn't call that an antique just yet, honey. And for the record, I think you look adorable in those dark, vivid tones."

"Thanks. Now, about this book. This happens to be a prime example of 18th century boudoir accessory. The plates alone make this book priceless."

"Sugar, I'm sure the user of those boudoirs wanted that for something other than bedtime reading. If I haven't missed my mark that, and I'm sure I haven't my dear, that book falls under what those high-browed snotty types still call as erotica."

"Ah, well, that's what it is essentially. It's an excellent 18th century example of one."

Liz deftly plucked the surprisingly heavy tome from her grasp and flipped open page after page, her smirk growing more and more wicked with each glimpse of the plates.

"_**Oh Sugar**_," she drawled "I seriously think I must've underestimated such an important century. This could certainly make a bookworm out of little old me if I were so inclined. Is this what you've been reading in here all day round? No wonder you never want to stop and just spend all your days pouring over them."

"Don't be silly! A collector brought this in. I was just on my way to the vault when the scenery caught my eye and then the wind blew in and I found myself lost in the moment…" Maka cast a dreamy look at the view from her window and gave another sigh. The cool kiss of the wind ruffled the tendrils of hair that escaped from her carful chignon. "This place reminds me so much of home."

"Hm, that's the first time I heard you mention anything personal since you moved in here. Well, if the weather makes you this amenable, how about I take advantage of it and steal you away for lunch?"

"I really should stay here…"but I'm sure it wouldn't hurt if I just nip out for a short while, so why not?"

"Good girl! Now, go and hide away that delicious piece of reading before I start thinking of things that has nothing to do with lunch and something more related to dinner." Liz gave a wickedly suggestive cackle that made Maka blush even more.

"Liz!"

"We're picking up Patty on route to the restaurant. Just to remind you, I never keep secrets from her, so better be prepared."

"You're making me rethink this decision Liz."

"Don't worry. I had good ol' Tsubaki-sweetheart babysitting. I'm sure Patty will be just peachy.'

"Great. Now you tell me you managed to damage my land-lady's sanity. I will be out of an apartment by the time we get there."

The two friends hurried out after a few minutes. A mere heartbeat after the bell over the closed door of the shop stopped tinkling a shadow fell across the locked glass door.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Standard Disclaimer and all that. Still doesn't own Soul Eater. Slowly regaining the confidence to attempt writing again. I have been editing some parts so please feel free to comment. Many, many thanks for those that continue on to read.

* * *

**_Do you really think it is weakness that yields to temptation? _**

**_I tell you that there are terrible temptations_**

**_ which it requires strength, strength and courage to yield to._**

**_-Oscar Wilde_**

**_

* * *

MAKA_**

The restaurant was humming with the telltale clink of silverware against delicate porcelain, the murmur of voices effectively offset by the faint strains of Beethoven's "Spring". She and Liz was happy to find an open table in their favorite area of the restaurant and promptly claimed the spot as their lunch companions were just arriving. The classical was being played by an adequate, if a bit unfeeling pianist. The oddly apropos musical accompaniment served to whet her appetite when she normally would have none. It didn't hurt that she adored the look of the place.

The décor of the restaurant _**Aliments du Ciel**_ was fairly reminiscent of the Art Deco Era. Brilliant, alluring and filled with an undeniable sensual undertone, it never failed to transport her to another time and place. The Tiffany glass wall sconces, the sleek banquettes arranged intimately into pairs of twos and fours with simple candlelight and gardenias on the tabletops called to mind scenes of clandestine seduction.

_Reminds one of the titillation of abandon and yielding to wanton desires…the only thing I need now is some debonair, devil-may-care guy to suddenly appear and sweep me off my feet in the sultry sway of waltz._

The idea was so ludicrous at the same time enervating that she was quite unaware of the blush that stained her cheeks a pale wash of rose or the sparkle that made her emerald eyes look twice as bright. The image of a dance reminded her for some reason of the smooth glide of silk and that made her blush even more. Her companions, however, caught the moment and were not reticent enough not to comment.

"You know that kind of smile really makes me want to tie you up somewhere and interrogate you." Liz grinned as she waved a fork loaded with lettuce in her direction, the mischievous twinkle of her eyes revealing her speculations.

A choked laugh caught Maka's attention and she gave Tsubaki a friendly thump on her back and a commiserating smile before turning towards the one that spoke. She pinned those tall blonde with a look before snorting as if to illustrate her point.

"Liz, stop saying such things. If I was the type to get paranoid, you'd make me stop eating this excellent fare and leave this restaurant screaming for my life. Tsubaki-chan, pay no heed to the things the woman says. She's demented."

"I'm sure she was just kidding Maka-chan." Tsubaki wiped her mouth daintily before awarding Liz with a smile. Liz returned the smile with a grin and a wink.

"Hah! That might be a really interesting sight to see. Willing to bet your money where your mouth is little girl?" challenged.

Maka shook her head and asked in a resigned tone. "You're incorrigible. Why do I hang around you again?"

"You like living dangerously."was Liz' immediate quip causing Tsubaki to laugh to laugh aloud.

"She has a point, you know. If it that wasn't the case, I doubt anyone could've made you stay all those months with the two of them."

"Right. Blame me for everything why don't you?"

A soft laughter floated somewhere between them and she turned grateful eyes towards the young blonde sitting on her left. She awarded Liz's younger sister with a huge smile.

"Yeah sister and you're wrong. That smile makes me want to hang her up somewhere and ask her a bunch of things."

Liz gave her sister a teasing tweak on her button nose before bopping her on the head with her knuckles. "Patty, you ditz, that's basically the same thing."

Patty merely blinked and brushed into place her disheveled locks. "Oh is it? Oh well, then that's ok." She lifted her spoon and stared at the contents. "What are we having for lunch again?"

"Patty, you've been gulping the stuff for the last ten minutes and you're telling me you have no idea what it was? You can't be this dense, Sister!" Liz looked between appalled and resigned.

Patty gave her sister a look that fairly screamed that what would follow next wouldn't fall under the slimmest category of innocence. "I'm not dense. It looks like milk soup to me but it tastes funny so I don't think that's what it is."

Tsubaki, as always, took to the little girl and tried her best to explain the meal. "It's mushroom soup, dear. It does have cream in it. Maybe that's what you taste so prominently?"

"Cream? Like the milk that comes from cows?" Patty prodded. Liz gave an approving nod.

"Yep."

"This is made from mushroom?"

Another nod and this time, even Tsubaki nodded.

"Yep."

"Mushroom with cream?"

Liz nodded once more but even she watched warily the look that was slowly forming in Patty's eyes.

"Yep."

"We're eating fungus with something that comes out of a cow?"

They all stared dumbfounded at the picture of innocence the young girl made as she stared at the soup welling at the bottom of her bowl. As one, they each turned to look at one another before their gaze too, were drawn to the dish they had been consuming quite heartily mere moments ago. It was Tsubaki that broke the awkward silence.

"Well…Patty dear, its—er…well, when you put it like that. I guess it is kinda—"she cast a besseching glance at Liz who gave a toothy grin and pronounced her judgment with gleeful blatancy.

"Yuck"

"Disgusting…" Maka concurred.

Patty gave the finishing blow to what would otherwise had been a run of the mill lunch hour.

"Gross. What else do they have that taste's as good?"

The conversation between her lunch companions would've fazed any ordinary mortal. It would've definitely done the same to her but constant exposure to their particular and peculiar sense of 'sibling love' made her immune to just about anything the human race could throw at her. After one more look at the amused smile on Tsubaki's face and the resigned look on Liz's, Maka decided it was time to introduce Patty to the joys of foie gras and caviar quite unaware of the entrance of three figures whose eyes were even now busily scanning the restaurant for an open spot.


End file.
